


Tell Me Yes

by SingManyFaces



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Clone Wars: Gambit Series - Karen Miller, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Coming Untouched, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Fucking the noise out of Anakin Skywalker's head, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Obikin Week 2019, Pet names signal commands, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 13:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingManyFaces/pseuds/SingManyFaces
Summary: Anakin gets too worked up, Obi-Wan talks him down.





	Tell Me Yes

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this would make a good fit for the Obikin Week prompt “caresses.”

Obi-Wan chuckled as his back hit the door to his cabin on the _Negotiator_ , Anakin already pulling away his collars to press his mouth to the curve of Obi-Wan’s neck. “I haven’t felt you like this in an age,” he murmured, working a hand into Anakin’s hair as he tilted his head back, “so keyed up.”

Nuzzling at the crook of his jaw, “And who got me that way, Master?”

The question was playful, it’s sobering effect unintentional. The memory of that afternoon, the scene of their latest campaign, was fresh in Obi-Wan’s mind. The air had still been clouded with the dust the fighting had kicked up, hot and cloying with the scent of slagged metal; another victory for the Republic. The medics had already begun tending to their wounded brothers and, after checking in with Cody, Obi-Wan had sought out Anakin. The state he’d been in…

The battle had been decisively finished but Anakin hadn’t been, the Force quivering with the awful energy of his battle haze. His opponents already reduced to scrap, he’d remained bathed in the blue of his lightsaber’s arc, swinging into the debris. Dimly Obi-Wan had heard one of the newer brothers—his armor still unpainted—step forward to collect his General only to be cautioned back by Captain Rex, quietly telling him _, “Let General Kenobi get him.”_

So he had. Calling to his former apprentice hadn’t worked, he didn’t know how many times he’d tried it as he’d drawn nearer. Finally, when he’d almost been close enough to feel the heat of his backswing, Obi-Wan had blanketed him in the calm of his own Presence. Anakin’s arm had stilled almost immediately and he’d turned, pupils contracted to pinpricks. _“Anakin,”_ he’d repeated, felt the storm within Anakin quiet as he’d laid his hand on the nape of his neck, _“it’s time to stop.”_

He was drawn from the memory by a sharp nip, the edge of Anakin’s teeth at his ear; he had already stripped himself of his tunics and was currently working at doing the same to Obi-wan. “This isn’t one of your podraces, you know,” he pointed out with a breathy laugh as his tunics fell open, “There’s no prize to win for speed.”

Anakin arched a brow, hands pausing as he gave a tilt of his head. “Is that why you’re so unmotivated?” He slid the garments from Obi-Wan’s shoulders, grinning as he watched them pool on the floor before his hands sought Obi-Wan’s waistband. “I’m sure I could think of a prize or two…”

He chuckled again, correcting, “ _Not_ unmotivated.” Shooing away the other man’s hands, “Just indulging in some moderation.”

Humming as he stepped back, Anakin rolled his eyes; ‘indulgence’ and ‘moderation’ were not concepts that went together. Drawing down his zipper, “Never have been overly good at that.” Playfully defiant, he dropped his pants. 

The memory of the battle rose again but Obi-Wan shook it off, focused instead on the long lines of Anakin’s body, already hard and wanting. “Oh, you don’t have to tell _me_ that.” Obi-Wan moved toward him but dodged his hands with a graceful twist of his body and a teasing shake of his head. Not a rebuff but a redirection, inviting Anakin to follow.

For his part, Anakin seemed caught between amusement and frustration, and he took a breath that was probably meant to be steadying. “Is this supposed to be another lesson in patience?”

Obi-Wan considered the question for a moment before shaking his head again, offering a small smile. “Mm, more like stillness. You’re always on the move—I think sometimes you forget _how_ to slow down,” he suggested, grazing Anakin’s stomach with his fingertips as he passed, “Let me help?”

Between them the Force still vibrated with his energy, but Anakin raised a brow. “What did you have in mind, Master?” he asked, stepping out of his pants to follow.

Obi-Wan took up a position behind the room’s cushioned chair, drawing one hand along its back as he met Anakin’s gaze. “Come along, darling.” Anakin shivered, and Obi-Wan patted the chair invitingly, “I’ll show you.”

There was a loose, near-saunter to Anakin’s gait as he joined Obi-Wan, leaning his hands on the arms of the chair; nodding to it, “And this is going to help?” 

“Very much so.” Anakin’s hands climbed to the back of the chair as he leaned in for another kiss; they were a breath apart when Obi-Wan’s voice came again, pitched low and smooth, in control, “Sit.”

He watched the flutter of Anakin’s eyelids, the briefest spark of defiance beneath his lashes before he obeyed. “And how, exactly, is this supposed to—”

“Feet up on the bed,” Obi-Wan interrupted in the same tone. Unthinking, Anakin complied immediately; Obi-Wan’s appreciative hum made him wriggle. “There’s my beautiful boy,” he murmured, voice as warm as his smile. This time he caused a full-body shudder as he rounded the chair to run a hand up the underside of Anakin’s leg. Reaching the back of Anakin’s thigh found Obi-Wan half draped over his partner. Anakin found an opportunity, instantly taking advantage of the position to pull Obi-Wan into another heated kiss.

Giving in only temporarily, Obi-Wan ended the kiss by catching his teeth in Anakin’s lower lip, drawing a soft whine of disappointment. “Ah, ah—” he reminded, gently taking hold of Anakin’s wrists to press them to the arms of the chair, “We’re slowing down, remember?” Straightening up, he rested his hand on the back of the chair again as his gaze traveled Anakin’s body. “And I’d like to take my time looking at you.”

“ _Looking_ at me?” Anakin repeated, incredulous. It certainly wasn’t what he’d had in mind. “You see me all the time.”

“Not like this, dear one,” he pointed out. Whether it was time or privacy that was lacking, they didn’t often get the chance for more than quick, urgent couplings lately, feeding their physical hungers but nothing else. Obi-Wan would never say it was the sole reason for Anakin’s losing control of himself to the haze of battle, his inability to center then, but…well, it didn’t _help._ “And while you do cut a dashing figure in armor and robes,” laying his hand at the hollow of Anakin’s throat, “I _much_ prefer you like this.” He skimmed his fingertips down the center of Anakin’s chest, his fluttering stomach, before stopping at his navel. “If I have the opportunity.”

Anakin let out a deep, quavering breath and cleared his throat. “Alright…” A slight shift in his position bared his throat as his head rested back against the chair, long limbs draping more elegantly over the furniture; he knew how to please his Master’s eye when he wanted to. “If you want to look at me so badly,” his flesh hand closed around his straining cock, his breath already quickening, “I’ll give you a show.” 

Obi-Wan allowed him two strokes, openly appreciating the view, before his light touch met the back of Anakin’s hand, stilling its motion. “No, darling,” he commanded gently, drawing the other man’s hand away, “No touching yourself.” Anakin’s mouth closed around a frustrated groan.

And then his lips turned up in a fierce grin, “Touch you, then?” His hands fanned out on Obi-Wan’s bare chest before trying to move lower. 

“No.” Again, he caught Anakin’s hands, set them comfortably on the arms of the chair. “I’d like you to keep these here, unless I say otherwise.” He cradled Anakin’s cheek, thumb absently brushing his lower lip as he caught and held his gaze. “Will you do that for me, darling?”

Another deep breath meant to steady him, and Anakin nodded slowly. “Yes.” His lips formed the slightest kiss against Obi-Wan’s thumb, a tiny defiance.

It earned a chuckle, and then a thoughtful hum. “And…” decision made, Obi-Wan nodded to himself, “I’d like you to close your eyes as well.” 

Anakin’s brows furrowed, another turn he hadn’t been expecting. “Close my—” a little shake of his head as he tried to focus his thoughts, “Why?”

Another hum as Obi-Wan leaned closer; Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s grin as his lips brushed his ear, his voice a low murmur that sent warmth spilling through Anakin’s stomach, “Because I told you to.” Anakin sucked in a breath, shuddered at the barest flicker of his Master’s tongue against his ear. “Will you do that for me, darling?”

Nodding slowly, “Yes.” He waited until Obi-Wan had pulled back enough to see him, then let his eyes fall shut.

And Obi-Wan vanished into the Force.

Another gasp; his eyes remained closed but he braced to leave the chair. “Master?”

“ _Still,_ Anakin.” Obi-Wan soothed, laying his hand over the other man’s heart, reminding, “Be still.” 

Anakin eased beneath the touch and his voice came softer. “Why are you hiding?”

“I want you to stay rooted in the present,” Obi-Wan reasoned, “Less distraction, more focus.” His fingers flexed against Anakin’s chest. “Understand?”

Settling back into the chair, eyes still closed, Anakin confirmed, “Yes.”

“ _Good_ boy…” and he sounded so pleased that Anakin didn’t even mind when Obi-Wan lifted his hand away. 

However, after that, long moments stretched on with no more contact between them. Anakin’s stilted breathing began to sound loud to his own ears as he tried to stop the restless shifting of his hips. Finally, he quietly asked, “Testing me, Master?”

A warm chuckle came from his side; from the sound of it, Anakin guessed that Obi-Wan had been leaning against his desk. “Just enjoying the view while easing you in,” he corrected, stressing, “Moderation.” When he next spoke he was close, fingertips coming to rest at the hollow of Anakin’s throat again. “No rushing.” This time Obi-Wan traced a line upward, felt the bob of Anakin’s throat beneath his fingers as he swallowed. When he reached the point of Anakin’s chin he drew away again, only to let his fingers comb back into the damp waves of Anakin’s hair.

Anakin’s scalp tingled from the attention, an almost tipsy feeling beginning to build between his closed eyes. “No moving, no touching…” he had to stop himself from gasping, “Can I react when you touch me?”

A smile curved Obi-Wan’s mouth even though Anakin couldn’t see it. “By all means.”

Leaning enthusiastically into the other man’s touch, Anakin let out a breathy whine, “Thank you, Master.” Small shudders racked his body, soft chirps falling from his lips as Obi-Wan’s fingers combed paths from his forehead to the nape of his neck.

He was beginning to wonder if that petting was all he was going to get—his Master’s idea of moderation?—when Obi-Wan’s hands moved to his shoulders, flowed down his arms. “ _Easy…_ ” Obi-Wan’s fingers slipped between his own, and he realized belatedly that he was clenching onto the arms of the chair far too hard. He took in a deep breath through his nose, noticed for the first time the scent of ozone and metal that still clung to Obi-Wan from the battlefield; another breath and he relaxed his grip on the chair, earning a pleased sound from his Master. 

Slowly, Obi-Wan stroked over the backs of his hands before traveling upward again, fingers moving delicately over his forearms. Anakin’s head swam with the difference in sensation, the near-ticklish feeling from the left that made him want to squirm and the more muted awareness from the sensory plates of the right. Obi-Wan’s path traveled the gold plating that curved up toward his elbow, “Is this alright?”

Anakin opened his mouth to speak but, at first, the words wouldn’t come; he turned his head toward Obi-Wan’s voice, his chin dipping down. “…yes,” his breath hitched, “when it’s you.”

For just a moment there came a flare in the Force, warm and golden and loving, before Obi-Wan hid himself away again. “I’m glad.” Stopping when he reached the interface below Anakin’s elbow, his thumb gently moved over the join of flesh and metal. “You’ve done such beautiful work,” he murmured, sinking down to fold his arms over Anakin’s shoulders, his mouth at Anakin’s ear again, “and I want to admire all of you.” One of Obi-Wan’s hands, achingly slow, trailed lower down Anakin’s body.

Breath catching in his throat again, Anakin’s neglected cock twitched as Obi-Wan’s hand reached the vee of his hip. “Master,” he whimpered, feeling the soft scratch of Obi-Wan’s beard as he nuzzled at his cheek, “Touch me?”

Obi-Wan chuckled softly, the sound making Anakin’s hips rise as well as his hand did, “But I am touching you, dear one.” With one fingertip, as if to demonstrate, he trailed the groove of Anakin’s hip, up and down, as Anakin tried to bite back soft noises of frustration. “Oh…” Obi-Wan murmured as if just realizing, “You mean you’d like me to move over a bit, wrap my hand around your cock.” There was an amused lilt to his voice, and Anakin couldn’t help wondering how well that boded for him. “A little audience participation for that show you were going to give me?”

An enthusiastic nod, “Yes.”

Breath warm at Anakin’s ear, Obi-Wan’s voice was playful but firm, “No.”

Anakin couldn’t help the whine of disappointment that escaped his lips. 

“I think I’d rather taste you,” Obi-Wan continued on, “it’s been a while.” The hand that wasn’t teasing at Anakin’s hip moved over his chest to swipe a thumb over his sensitive nipple, roll it between his fingers until Anakin began to bow up from the chair. “I’d swallow you down, and you could get your hands into my hair like you like—I’d let you do that,” he allowed. “That does sound better, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Anakin groaned, his brows knitting together, “Please, Master…”

The barest quirk of a grin against his ear before the answer came, as though he’d thought better of the suggestion, “No.”

Collapsing back against the chair, a desperate little noise wrung itself from Anakin’s throat.

Obi-Wan nuzzled consolingly at his cheek. “I think _you’d_ rather my mouth somewhere else, actually,” he murmured, considering, his hand coming to rest as a warm weight low on Anakin’s belly, “Would you open your legs for me, darling?” Anakin whimpered, shifting his position in the hopes that his obedience would be rewarded. He received only another pleased hum, the sound so close to his ear tripping tingles down Anakin’s neck. “I’d have you writhing on my tongue, making more of those pretty noises you make for me.” With his smallest finger he began to trace little circles into the skin below Anakin’s navel. “And then, when you were gasping and trembling, I’d put your legs over my shoulders and—”

Like a snapped bowstring, Anakin jolted forward as he came with a sharp, surprised cry. Obi-Wan’s arms shifted immediately to hold him as the tremors rippled through his body; he brushed a kiss to the shell of Anakin’s ear, pressed another to his temple. Slowly, Obi-Wan began to unhide himself in the Force and Anakin let out a deeply contented sigh as he felt his soothing Presence wrap around him; Obi-Wan called the nearest discarded piece of clothing to him to hastily clean Anakin up. It was only once he’d gotten that taken care of that he got to his feet, sought Anakin’s hands and lifted them from the chair. As Obi-Wan perched on the arm of the chair, laid Anakin’s hands on his still-clothed thigh, Anakin shifted his position to curl toward him.

Brushing a damp curl behind Anakin’s ear, Obi-Wan then cradled his cheek. He kept his voice low, and warm, “Open your eyes for me, darling.”

Anakin blinked away the wetness clinging to his lashes as he did what he was told, mouth curving into a small smile as he leaned his head on the back of the chair.

“See now, darling?” Obi-Wan murmured, stroking his thumb over Anakin’s forehead, “How good a little stillness can be?”

With a lazy roll of his eyes, Anakin agreed, “Yes, Master.” Leaning forward, one of his hands dipped down to trace the seam running along Obi-Wan’s inner thigh as his voice turned playful again. “And you’re right—I probably do forget how to go slow sometimes.” His hand slid upward, centimeter by centimeter, until he met Obi-Wan’s waiting hardness, fit his palm to it over his trousers. His teeth caught briefly at his lower lip, “I may need some more practice.”

Obi-Wan smiled around a shivering breath, “Shall we move to the bed, then, darling?”

Already nodding, Anakin smiled, “Yes, Master.”

~*~ 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! You can find me on tumblr @singmanyfaces if you want to drop by. :D


End file.
